


Two Months Later

by the_kats_pyjamas



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, High School, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21581536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_kats_pyjamas/pseuds/the_kats_pyjamas
Summary: Adam has spent two months at military school but shows up back at Moordale like he'd never been gone. Eric navigates his way through the tricky business of caring about a guy who's kind of a dick. With his heart on his (florescent) sleeve.
Relationships: Eric Effiong/Adam Groff
Comments: 17
Kudos: 340





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began this in response to watching the Season One. I adore both Adam and Eric, but like a lot of people, I couldn't really get behind the ship with the bullying background. Despite that, I do desperately want to see them together (and happy!), so this is a little self indulgent fic purely for the purpose of turning this pairing into something I can ship the shit out of. It's super slow burn (I don't think anything else is possible), and to be perfectly honest I probably won't finish it before Season 2. Unless the writers do something awful, but I'm confident they'll do the right thing by Eric. They must! But I've been craving content for a while now, and thought I'd post just in case anyone else is in the same boat. I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens canonically, but in the meantime, I'll indulge myself with an Adam who grows, redeems himself, and becomes someone deserving of Eric.

"Good morning, Otis!" Eric shouted down the steps as he watched his friend trudge slowly up them.

"What are you so chipper about?" he asked in reply.

"Look around you, Otis," he cried, gesturing dramatically. "The sun is shining, birds are singing, you can wank! It's a glorious day all around!"

"Oh, my God," Otis muttered, trying and failing to suppress a smile. He was right, after all. He and Ola had been dating for two months now, and, while they hadn't exactly gotten up to much together, his solo activities had been progressing in leaps and bounds. Much to Eric's delight.

"So?" he demanded as he watched his friend strap on his helmet. "Did you wank last night?"

"Eric, my God." He scrubbed his hand over his face. "You and my mum should start a We Don't Believe in Boundaries Club."

Eric laughed loudly. "Yes?" he prompted.

"Yes, all right? Happy?"

"Ecstatic! Delighted! Thrilled! Well done, you! That's every night for the past week, right?"

"It is so scary that you know that."

Eric laughed loudly again and pushed off after Otis, who was already turning out onto the road.

"And was it the Lion or the Goat who got you over the line this time?" he called out. Otis stopped abruptly and turned around to glare at Eric.

"That's not funny," he said, clearly angry now. "For one thing, I've asked you not to call her that; it embarrasses me because it reminds me of a stupid mistake I made and it disrespects her. It's also disrespectful to imply that Ola and Maeve are in any kind of...." he flailed his arms about as if hoping to grab the right word out of the sky. ".... competition with each other. Pitting women against each other is the work of gossip magazines and Internet trolls, and I won't -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sorry, man!" Eric held his hands up in submission. "I'm sorry, okay? Sorry." Otis always ranted when he was sensitive about something; Eric knew to leave well enough alone. "It won't happen again."

Otis turned away, apparently satisfied and began pedalling down the tree lined road, dappled sunlight falling in racing patterns across his backpack as he rode. Eric quickly caught up to him.

"I don't suppose I even have to ask you?" Otis muttered, not looking at him.

"If I wanked? Ha! Twice! And once this morning!" His laugh once again rang out, and Otis snorted along with him. 

"And who, pray tell, was the object of your fantasies, my sexually liberated friend?"

Eric's smile immediately faltered as his mind's eye fell on wiry muscles, pale skin, sharp cheekbones, sad eyes, tender hands, and burning lips.

"None of your business!" He sped off away from Otis, looking back over his shoulder to shout, "Pervert!" This time Otis laughed openly and they continued to race to school, any tension gone completely by the time they walked their bikes through the gates. 

Eric was internally contemplating the merits of adding a coffee stop on the way to school - bike handle cup holders were a thing, weren't they? It would add an extra ten minutes to their ride, but turning up to school with coffee (in reusable eco cups, of course), could look hella sophisticated, right? Plus the caffeine couldn't hurt - when he heard Otis whisper a quiet "shit" under his breath. He looked at him and frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked. He followed his friend's furtive glance. Oh.

It was Adam. He was back. Shaved hair, thinner than before, sitting hunched over his knees on the bench by the bike racks looking for all the world like he had been waiting for Eric. Who could only stare. Their eyes locked, and Otis, nudging him and murmuring out of the corner of his mouth, "Don't make eye contact," missed the small, tentative lift of Adam's hand. A wave, Eric supposed, for someone accustomed to being unnoticed. 

"Come on," Otis urged, and Eric finally gathered his wits and followed him to the rack. Feeling strangely exposed, he locked up his bike and took off his helmet with clumsy fingers. 

As they reached the bench, Otis kept walking, but Eric stopped, directly in front of Adam now. Otis turned back to stare incredulously at him, the "what the fuck" clear as day in his wide eyes. 

"I'll meet you in class, okay?" he said, striving for reassurance but probably leaning towards pleading. 

"Are you sure?" he mouthed, frowning deeply and looking pointedly at Adam, as if Eric hadn't realized exactly who was sitting there in front of him.

"Go and save me a seat, man." He smiled and Otis nodded reluctantly, only looking back six times as he walked away, bless him. Eric knew that his birthday still weighed heavily on his mind, and he hoped that this encounter with Adam wouldn't give him another reason to feel guilty. Somehow, he was sure it wouldn't. 

He finally looked down at the boy in front of him. He was chewing on his thumb nail and looked, quite frankly, terrified. Eric tentatively sat down next to him, right on the edge of the seat, as if poised for flight. Fight wouldn't do him much good if his instincts turned out to be wrong, so he might as well be ready for flight. 

"I heard you went to military school," he offered, noticing absently that the words tasted like beginnings in his mouth.

"Yeah," Adam replied, running his hand over his shorn head.

When nothing else was forthcoming, Eric tried again. "But you're back now?"

"Yeah." He wiped his hands on his jeans and glanced quickly at Eric. "Uh, family stuff."

"Oh." Eric cast around desperately for something to say.

"Well, you didn't miss much -" he began just as Adam said, "I wanted to -"

Eric laughed nervously. "You go."

Adam wiped his hands on his jeans again. "I wanted to - fuck, this is hard. I'm so shit at talking." He bit his nail again furiously for a moment, before taking a deep breath through his nose.

"I wanted to apologize for the music room," he finally said in a rush.

"Oh," Eric replied stupidly. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it hadn't been that. 

"I mean," Adam continued quickly, "I don't regret it or anything," he paused and looked at Eric with a stare so intense it stole his breath. "I just mean, I'm, uh, figuring some things out at the moment-"

At this, Eric couldn't help but snort. "No shit," he laughed, and preened when Adam snuck a small smile back at him.

"Anyway. I'm figuring some things out, and I get that it wasn't fair to, uh, involve you when I don't really know..." He trailed off, looking lost. "I mean, I'm not sure..."

"It's okay, Adam, I know what you mean. I get it, it's fine. I'm not exactly going to complain about getting a blowjob in the name of research, am I?" He laughed, but instantly hoped that Adam didn't take his flippant comment seriously. He certainly didn't want to be anyone's experiment. 

Adam huffed a laugh in reply then grew serious again. He assaulted his thumb nail with vigour once more before sighing and starting again.

"I wanted to apologize for everything, too. What I said after in the music room, and all the shit before that day. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I am, really, so sorry."

Eric eyed him carefully. He had been expecting (hoping for?) an apology. Was it enough? Adam's sincerity was obvious, but could a few heartfelt words ever come close to erasing the years of fear and humiliation? Probably not, but it was a start, at least. 

"No, it- it does," he finally said with a sigh. Damn his stupid soft heart. "Mean something, that is. It doesn't make it all go away, but it does mean something."

Adam nodded briskly and cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said. "I, uh, better get to class. I'll see you around." He wiped his hands once more on his jeans and stood. 

"Okay. And I wish you luck on your journey of self-discovery!" He cringed inwardly. As soon as the ridiculous words were out of his stupid mouth he wanted to hide.

Adam snorted in reply. "Twat," he said and walked off.

Eric shook his head. "Pretty much," he murmured, then headed in a daze into the school, Adam's tall figure disappearing into the crowd ahead of him.

Otis pounced on him as soon as he slid into the desk next to him.

"What was that?!" he hissed urgently. "Are you okay??" 

"Yeah, it's fine. He, uh," he paused, a nervous giggle escaping as he wet his dry lips with his tongue. He felt even more rattled than he had after that day in the music room. "He apologized."

"What?!" Otis demanded. His blue eyes were wide. "For what, exactly?"

"Well, all of it, really." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and gave Otis a helpless shrug. "He couldn't exactly go through the list. There's only so many hours in the day." He laughed again, but it was forced. The truth of it was painful, made the familiar embarrassment and fear prickle at his skin.

"And?" Otis frowned deeply, his eyes going from comically wide to suspiciously narrowed. "What did you say? Please don't tell me you forgave him?"

"No, not exactly. I mean, the words, 'I forgive you' never left my lips. But I appreciated it, and I told him so." He studied the surface of his desk, focusing on the chicken scratch etchings of endless students' initials. He couldn't bear to look at Otis while he said that last part, terrified he would see judgement there in his big, wet eyes.

But Otis never judged. He simply said, "So he's a changed man, then?"

"That remains to be seen," he answered with finality as their teacher began the lesson. 

It wasn't until fourth period that day that Eric realized what the odd feeling he couldn't shake was. Disconcertment. He was used to meeting Adam's eyes in the hallways or classroom multiple times a day. Granted, he'd spent two months without the heavy weight of Adam's gaze, but now that he was back, he found he automatically expected to have his constant attentions returned with him. 

Now, whenever he saw him walking towards him down the hall or sitting in a desk near him, his eyes would be firmly averted.

Granted, the eyes were normally menacing and unwelcome, but nonetheless it felt odd not to feel them seeking him out.

A couple of days later, and Eric was horrified to realize that he missed the attention. Otis had called him out on this before. Was he really so desperate for attention? He wasn't sure, but when he spotted Adam alone in the library, he hesitated for only a moment before he sat down in the chair opposite.

"Do you mind?" he asked as he set his biology text on the table between them.

Adam shrugged, his face closed and expressionless, but his eyes wary, belying his skittishness. He also had a text book open on the table, but he didn't appear to be paying it any mind.

He twirled a pen between his fingers, rocking back on his chair while Eric tried to study.

Finally, after he read the same sentence five times and still had no idea what it said, he cleared his throat and said, "How are you?"

Adam glanced at him with a frown. "Fine," he answered, and looked away, the chair creaking loudly as he rocked again.

"Good, that's good." He waited a moment. "I'm good, too. In case you forgot to ask." He gave him a winning smile. Adam only frowned again in return. 

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Eric's smile dropped. "Uh,-"

"Are you trying to be my friend? You already have a friend. A good one."

"I can't have more than one?"

"I don't know. Is that what you're doing?" 

"I don't know!" Eric replied, exasperated. "I didn't have a Master Plan! I was just trying to be friendly."

"Why?" His face was carefully blank, and Eric couldn't get a read on him. Was he genuinely confused? Or annoyed? 

Eric, by now, just felt embarrassed. 

"I guess I'm just a friendly person, Adam!" He slapped his book closed, preparing to leave. 

"I thought," he continued, emphasizing 'thought' dramatically, "that your apology meant you were going to stop being a dick to me." He threw his hands in the air. "Wrong again, Eric!"

Adam frowned at him again. "You're really dramatic, you know?" He wasn't really asking a question. Creak went his chair. Ever casual. 

Eric glared at him. "And you're really dick-ish!" He retorted, maturely. 

Adam shrugged in response. "I'm not trying to be a dick. Genuinely," he added, a little more earnestly now, when Eric scoffed. 

"I just don't get why you're talking to me. Seems stupid."

Eric laughed a little, a bit incredulously. Adam really was quite shit at talking.

"You... don't want me to talk to you?" he asked.

Adam shrugged again. "Don't care, really." Creak went his chair. He sniffed, and Eric narrowed his eyes, studying him. That first day he'd come back, he'd been nervous and earnest and had let himself appear vulnerable. That was far from the norm, Eric quickly realized. Feigning nonchalance, acting casual, this was Adam's normal. His protective wall.

"Okaaay," he said slowly, settling tentatively back into his seat. "If you genuinely don't care, I'm going to give it another shot. 'Cause Mama didn't raise no quitter!" He laughed, too loudly, in an effort not to grimace. His stupid fucking mouth.

Adam pulled a face at him, something between confused and incredulous, and more than a little embarrassed on his behalf. 

"Still seems dumb."

"Don't you think everyone deserves a chance to be better?" he asked with a tired sigh.

Adam rocked back. Creak. "Did you hear that on a movie or something?" 

Eric laughed. "Possibly. Or maybe from Otis. It sounds like something he'd say." He watched Adam for a moment. Rocking his chair, twirling his pen. Always moving. "Is every conversation with you like this?"

Adam shrugged again. "I dunno," he answered, and Eric didn't have to look too far to see the painful truth in those two small words. As long as he'd known him, he'd never known Adam to have a friend. Who knows how many meaningful conversations he'd actually had in his life.

They watched each other warily for a moment. 

Adam spoke first. "You should have more self-respect," he offered out of nowhere. 

"What?!" Eric demanded, instantly furious.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just mean that you shouldn't be nice to someone who treated you badly."

"Adam, telling someone they should have more self-respect is a shit thing to say." he answered, his anger still simmering. He'd worked hard for his self-respect, god dammit!

Adam shrugged again, looking a little flustered now. He was rocking faster, too. "I didn't mean to say something shit, I was trying to say something nice, actually. My thoughts just..." He circled a hand quickly in front of his forehead. His thoughts spin, Eric mentally supplied. 

"When I have to talk, I either just grab whichever thought is at the front and-" he gave a halfhearted attempt at miming vomiting. "Or they all jumble together and I end up saying something that doesn't even make sense. Mostly I just shrug. I'm shit at talking." He'd stopped rocking and was bouncing his knee furiously up and down. Eric pressed his hands to his thighs to resist the sudden urge to reach out and calm him.

"That was, uh, actually a really eloquent description of being shit at talking. A post-modern masterpiece, in fact!" he added grandly, cursing himself again even as the words left his lips.

Adam gave him that look again: one eyebrow raised with a deep furrow above his nose. Confusion, incredulity, pity. Eric was becoming familiar with it. Maybe a little bit endeared. But he wouldn't admit that to himself just yet. He really just had to stop saying ridiculous things around him. Or at all.

"It's just... It makes it seem like you think it's okay. To be treated that way. You should..." He furrowed his eyebrows deeply, and Eric could practically see him searching for the words to match his thought. 

"You should demand what you deserve," he finally said, a little helplessly, as though it wasn't quite right but was the best he could do.

"Oh," Eric replied, feeling a little stunned. 

"You should expect more from the people you give your time to." He looked pleased that he'd finally managed to say it so eloquently.

"Adam," Eric laughed a little nervously. "You sound quite protective." He frowned now. What an intensely bizarre thought. And was he trying to protect him from himself?

"Fuck off," Adam muttered back.

Eric laughed again. "Adam," he said, gentler this time. "I know my worth."

Adam looked up and met his eyes, holding his gaze for a beat. "Do you?"

"Yes," Eric replied firmly. Because he did. Maybe not at every moment, and maybe only as much as your average teenager was capable of understanding it. Definitely. And an important part of his knowing his worth was recognizing and valuing his capacity for kindness. In all circumstances. 

"Do you?" he asked pointedly in return.

Adam was about to reply when he was distracted by a figure passing in the hall. Eric followed his eyes to see Headmaster Groff striding away.

"Without the smallest doubt," he answered bitterly, then grabbed his book and rose from the table in one graceful movement. 

Eric looked back towards Headmaster Groff in time to see he had stopped walking and had turned back to watch his son stride away with hard eyes. He glanced at Eric with just a fleeting moment of distaste before he schooled his features into a neutral expression and walked away.

Eric suppressed a shudder. He'd mostly been indifferent to his headmaster over the years, but seeing the way he scared Adam made his bones ache and his stomache twist in a new and uncomfortable way.

He spared a moment to be grateful for his own lovely father before sighing and pulling his text closer towards him. Although he knew he'd be hard pressed concentrating after that confusing encounter, he knew he'd feel better about analyzing every word and gesture a thousand times over if he at least gave it a go.

"Mama didn't raise no quitter," he murmured, laughing mirthlessly to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam keeps trying. Kind of. Eric keeps figuring him out.

Eric cycled home that afternoon lost in a conflicting jumble of thoughts. On the one hand, Adam was right. After the way he had treated Eric over the last few years, he didn't deserve Eric's time. Eric was a proud black man who deserved to be treated like the king he was. Adam Groff was just another angry white dude. And Lord knows there were enough of those in the world. 

Whatever the shitty circumstances of his home life were, he had long been a figure of fear in Eric's life, and it was difficult to see how a healthy friendship could ever develop from that dynamic. He smiled to himself and reflected that Otis was rubbing off on him.

But he also knew that there was another side to him, one that had seemingly been crushed by his father. One that could be tender and gentle and earnest. 

Also, he was hot. Really hot. But that was neither here nor there. Eric certainly wasn't going to date him. He clearly wasn't even out. Or maybe he wasn't even gay? Or bi? Maybe it was a weird curiosity thing? Also, he was a bully. He was Eric's bully, for fuck's sake! Harboring any kind of romantic feelings for him would be off in so many ways.

But a tentative friendship could work. That would be okay. 

Wanking over him every night was okay, too, of course.

The next morning Adam met his eyes in the hall for the first time since his return. They weren't the eyes of a friend noticing a friend, but nor were they threatening or mocking. 

Gradually Eric began to feel his eyes on him more and more. Adam always looked away quickly whenever Eric caught him looking, but Eric felt a little thrill every time nonetheless. Although he would barely admit it to himself, he began to treasure their secret glances. Heated gazes and stolen looks that spoke of things unsaid, of the memory of one feverish afternoon and of tiny, tender touches that had felt so, so big.

He was trying desperately not to let himself feel anything for Adam, but as any queer kid will tell you, you can't tell your heart what to feel.

So he let himself watch Adam, and he saw, to his surprise, that he really was trying. He no longer pushed kids into lockers for the sake of it, he didn't shoot spitballs or call anyone childish names. He was still sullen and standoffish and generally not particularly pleasant, but he was trying, and Eric couldn't help feeling just a little bit proud of him.

***

Eric was walking down the high street one blustery day about three weeks after Adam had returned when he was quite literally stopped in his tracks.

Adam Groff, soft and smiling, helping an older lady stir sugar into her tea as they sat in the wind at a sidewalk cafe. He laughed as the wind whipped the scarf tied around her head about her face, and Eric's knees nearly buckled. Had he ever seen Adam laugh before? Maybe sneer or scoff at someone, but never this quiet, gentle chuckle with crinkles at the corners of sparkling eyes. He was beautiful, so beautiful in that moment, and Eric wanted to hug him. The urge was so powerful that he had to grind his toes within his shoes to the ground, holding him in place. 

And then Adam looked up, the sparkle remaining for a moment in his eyes as the met Eric's, then quickly fading as they darted towards his mother. Eric looked, too, and realized, with a sinking, hopeless sort of dread, that the scarf around her head was the telltale sign of a chemotherapy patient. 

Eric looked back at Adam, a silent 'oh' forming on his lips. 'Family stuff', he had said. He continued to stare at Adam, barely even noticing that his mother had turned to eye him curiously, too. 

He was finally brought back to himself when a man rushed by, jostling him roughly as pushed past him. After accepting his apology, he looked back at Adam and almost laughed - he was lowering himself back into his seat and clearing the glower from his face. What kind of bizarre reality was this, Eric wondered, where Adam Groff fancied himself Eric's knight in shining armour? 

Defender of Queer Teens and Stirrer of Sick Ladies' Sugar. Eric almost laughed again.

Adam, however, was trying to draw his mother's attention away from Eric by offering her a scone, so Eric considered the interaction, such as it was, to be over.

He gave a tentative smile in their direction then began walking again, the wind whipping his unbuttoned electric blue wind breaker behind him like a cape. Cursing the wind for making him look a knob, he hurried down the street and around the corner, finally letting himself collapse against a wall and let out the breath he'd been holding. 

His heart hurt for Adam. How unbelievably shit must his home life be now? His heart hurt so much that he physically pressed a clenched fist to his chest, hoping for relief. He couldn't take his own pain away, no more than he could take Adam's, but he could be a friend to him, when it didn't seem like he had anybody else. He could support him and hold him, literally or figuratively. And he would. Regardless of their past, Eric would be the friend Adam needed. If he would let him.

With this thought, the pain in his chest actually did ease, and he walked home with more energy than he'd felt in weeks, buoyed by purpose, forgiveness, clarity and decision. 

Eric didn't see Adam until their first class together the next day.

He was late, of course, and he looked so desperately shy as he snuck past Eric and sat down next to him, allowing himself only to quickly glance in his direction, that the little spot in Eric's heart that was slowly making room for Adam opened up and let a little more of him wiggle inside. 

He closed his eyes against the strength of the feeling, overwhelmed, and when he opened them again, he found himself looking at Adam's hands. So close to his on the table, close enough to reach out and gently stroke with his pinky. Just like that day so long ago. He didn't, of course. He just stared. Taking in the long, strong fingers. Learning the swell of his knuckles. The flat planes of his nails. They were beautiful hands. Man's hands. Made to hurt or to hold, he couldn't help observing.

He was so enthralled that he missed their teacher's instructions, and jumped when everyone in the class flipped open their textbooks simultaneously. He looked around a little wildly and caught the ghost of a smirk on Adam's lips. Had he caught him creeping on his hands???

"Page 92," he said without looking at him. "Perv."

Shit, he thought, and was about to defend his honour when Mr. Hendricks spoke up.

"Mr. Groff. Please refrain from contributing with your private commentary, thank you very much."

"He was just letting me know what page we were on, sir. I was, uh, daydreaming. Sorry."

This time he knew Adam was smirking without even looking at him.

"Adam Groff was? Helping you with the class?" the teacher replied, emphasizing 'Groff' stupidly and giving him the 'yeah, right' raised eyebrows. 

"Yes. Sir," Eric answered in clipped tones, a fierce and angry protectiveness rising unexpectedly in his belly. It seemed disproportionate to the situation, but he was furious that a teacher would condescend and dismiss Adam so blatantly.

"Mmmm, well. Let's maintain a modicum of focus, huh?" He looked at the student in the front row and rolled his eyes, and Eric couldn't help the sharp huff of annoyance he emitted. No wonder Adam never tried, if this was how his teachers treated them. He snuck a glance at him now, and found his eyes steadfastly downcast. 

He looked away, hoping he wasn't embarrassed and aching with the possibility. 

He tried, then, to focus on the class, but soon noticed that Adam was nervously tapping his pen on the corner of his page. 

He'd tap, then stop, holding his pen to the paper as if he was about to write something, then seemingly change his mind and begin tapping again. He cycled through this three times, Eric all the while watching and neglecting to even attempt to focus on the lesson, before finally, tentatively scratching out two small words: MY HERO.

The grin that spread across Eric's face would have lit the room, he could feel it. He pursed his lips to try to contain it and ducked his head to quickly stifle the giddy giggle that threatened to burst free. 

A quick glance at Adam showed he was repressing his smile, too, but the sparkle of satisfied mirth in his eyes was unmistakable. 

Eric picked up his own pen and began a quick sketch in the corner of his own notebook. He was no artist, but he managed to produce a pretty good likeness of the Superman badge, but with an 'E' within the shield instead of an 'S'. 

This time Adam didn't manage to hide his snort of amusement, and Mr. Hendricks looked up sharply at the sound.

"The pig noises are course related, too, I take it, Mr. Groff?" He said, and Eric glared. The condescending git! 

He opened his mouth to defend him again, but quickly snapped it shut when he felt Adam's hand gently press against his own, staying him. His heart pounded in his ears as all the blood in his body seemed to rush to the point where Adam's skin touched his. He barely heard him say, "Sorry, sir. Tickle in my throat."

The teacher shot him a disdainful look then returned to his lecture, and Eric's blood returned to its proper place in the entirety of his body once Adam removed his hand. 

But the point of contact continued to tingle for the rest of the day.

After the high of his last interaction with Adam, Eric felt no apprehension about joining him on the bench he was sitting on during their morning break the next day.

"Hi!" he said brightly. "Is this seat taken?" His smile widened, but faltered a little when Adam didn't look at him. 

He shrugged, and Eric's smile dropped completely. He was quickly learning to hate that shrug. "S'free," he mumbled, still avoiding his eyes.

Eric sat down gingerly, confused. This hot and cold thing was making his head spin.

"Are you.... all right?" he asked.

"Fine," he answered, mumbling around his thumb, which he was chewing furiously on.

Eric watched him for a moment. "And, uh, how is your mum?"

Adam looked up sharply at him at that, as if he wasn't expecting him to ask.

He looked away just as quickly. "Fine."

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

"No!" Adam replied sharply, looking at him like he was stupid.

Eric looked around, trying to find something to focus his attention on. He was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. What the fuck was Adam's problem? He was considering just standing up and leaving when he remembered his promise to befriend Adam, with all his dickheadery.

What could he talk about, though? The weather? Sports? Beyonce? He actually had no idea what Adam was into.

"How is the whole -," he gestured he hand up and down Adam's body a couple of times, "- 'figuring things out' thing going?" He tried not to cringe as he said it. Going for deeply personal then, huh. Bold move.

Adam gave him his classic 'did you really just say that?' look. 

"Fine," he answered. Of course. He sighed. "I mean, it's coming along."

"Well, let's hear it, then!" Eric demanded, grinning, the multiple word answer giving him a little confidence. "You're a closeted gay and have secretly been in love with me all along?!" 

Too much confidence, then. 

He laughed, far too loudly, hoping Adam wasn't going to punch him. Not that he ever had, but poking fun of his sexual identity crisis was probably a bridge too far.

His laughter faded as he realized Adam hadn't replied, or even given him his patented look. He was chewing his thumb violently and definitely, definitely blushing. 

Eric frowned. "Adam? I'm sorry, I was only joking."

"It's fine," he mumbled. "That part was, uh, pretty easy to figure out." 

Eric's mouth dropped open. "What - what part?" he finally stuttered. 

Adam didn't look at him. He finally took his thumb away from his mouth and used the hand to gesture in an all encompassing sort of way towards Eric. 

Eric was dumbfounded. Adam has just said he was in love with him, right? He blinked a couple of times to try to wipe the stupified look off his face. 

"What's the other part, then?" he finally whispered.

"Just...," he trailed off, seemingly contemplating whether to continue. "Just, you know. What's wrong with me, that I could treat someone I, uh, someone I, you know, ah, liked, like that. What's wrong with me. That's what I'm trying to figure out. Yeah." He coughed, knee jumping furiously. 

He must have looked exactly as stunned as he felt, because when Adam finally snuck a glance his way, he quickly assured him, "And I don't want to like, date you or anything. So don't worry about that."

Eric finally found his voice. "Oh. Why not?" He was stilled too stunned by the previous admission to really process it, but this was something he could focus on. Why would somebody not want to date the person they were in love with?

"Oh, is this an internalized homophobia thing?" he asked as the lightbulb binged. 

"I don't know what that means."

"Oh, well, it basically just refers to negativity towards the LGB-."

"Look, I don't care. I don't want to date you. We don't have to talk about it." He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs.

Eric glared at him. Did he have to be so rude?

"Well, with respect, Adam, I would like to talk about it. That's what normal human beings do - they talk about their problems." He spared a moment to regret using the word 'normal', his instincts told him that Adam's difficulties fitting in were something of a sore point, before he continued. "And I don't appreciate your cutting me off while I'm talking about my community. A community that you may well be welcomed into with open arms, should you stop behaving like such an absolute bellend."

Adam huffed out an exasperated breath between his lips. Like a horse. "Again with the theatrics."

Eric just raised his eyebrows pointedly at him in response. Adam scrubbed his hands over his face.

"Fucking hell," he said through his hand. He sighed. "I don't want to date you," he began slowly, "because I am not a good person."

Eric instantly felt his defensiveness melt away at his words, but Adam wasn't finished.

"I'm cruel and mean and I don't really know how to care about people."

"Adam," Eric whispered, his chest filling with a dull ache with each word he said.

"I'm br-broken," he tripped over the word but forced it out with his eyes squeezed shut. "My mum's probably going to die, and then I'll be even more broken."

He squeezed his eyes shut again, reaching up into his hair to pull harshly on the short strands there.

"And you are.." He squeezed his whole face closed and tugged at his hair. "... the fucking sun." He dropped his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. Eric blinked back the tears that had welled in his eyes.

Feeling overwhelmed, he went with a joke. "Adam, I'm not the sun. I just wear bright clothes." He laughed awkwardly, but Adam didn't look up. 

He cleared his throat. "That's quite an, uh, amazing thing to say, though. Thank you for saying it."

Adam was now digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. It looked painful. He still didn't look up.

"But Adam, what about what I want? Is that a factor here or do you just get to decide for yourself what's best for me?"

At this Adam finally looked up, the skin around his eyes red and swollen. 

"Just leave it, Tromboner," he demanded through gritted teeth, and Eric reared back as though he'd been slapped. Adam clenched his eyes shut and began assaulting his thumb nail again.

Eric narrowed his eyes. "I see you, Adam Groff," he said, chin high and chest out.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that pushing me away by being cruel is not the person you want to be anymore. And I won't let you do it."

Adam glowered at him, but Eric forged ahead. "Okay, you don't want to date me. Fine. I get it. There's no need to be such an epic knob about it. In fact, some of your reasoning was actually quite... nice. And for the record, I don't want to date you, either. Probably."

Adam huffed through his noise. An approximation of a laugh. Eric felt his heart lighten a little.

"But can't we try to be friends? That would be okay, right?"

"I don't - I just... Why??" 

"Because you seem like you need one, frankly." Eric faltered a little when Adam glared at him, but he quickly carried on. "Don't push me way. I'm strong and stubborn and kind. So if I ask you how your day is, just answer, without being a massive hijiot. Okay?"

Adam nodded, continuing to chew on his nail. It was red raw, almost bleeding. Eric tentatively reached out and gently pulled it from his mouth.

"Don't do that to yourself, huh?" He closed his hand for the briefest of moments around Adam's thumb and hoped, with a longing sort of ache, that he would realise that he wasn't just talking about his finger.


End file.
